


Distracted

by JaneyBaney



Category: Alexander Hamilton - Ron Chernow, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Hamliza, Lovesickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 07:41:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14911202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneyBaney/pseuds/JaneyBaney
Summary: What was that blasted password?





	Distracted

“Just one moment, I will have it I promise you.” He said. Hand to forehead, silently cursing.

 

What was it? What was it? Oh come now he had said it earlier just this day.

 

“Liberty or Death.”

 

“No, Colonel. That was the old one.”

 

It was cold out, snowing in fact, but Colonel Hamilton felt hot under the collar. It was on the tip of the tongue. He knew it. He assured the man he did.

 

“Colonel Hamilton…” A young voice piped up behind him. 

 

“Young Ford.” He said, “Haven't seen you in sometime-”

 

“You just came back from Campfield.” The Boy said plainly, “The Sentinel knows this but he's too stern.”

 

Hamilton managed too look equal parts embarrassed and defensive at what such a charge implied. But Young Ford went ahead.

 

“Sir, the password-”

 

“No no no, that is unnecessary I'll think of it.” Hamilton assured him, “I'm sure you're wanted somewhere.” Somewhere that wasn't here.

 

“Sir, I've been seeing you trying to ‘think of it’ these five minutes past.” Gabriel said, “The password is-” 

 

“I will think of it Ford. But thank you for being a friend.” He said.

 

Young Ford didn't leave. He watched the Colonel walk in a small circle, brow furrowed in thought. 

 

He knew it, he did. This was ridiculous. He closed his eyes, and reached into the most back recess of his memory.

 

To his own mortification, that he preferred to think was one only he was aware of, all that was turning up in his mind was of the conversations he had had of this past evening. And the one before that. And the previous one before that.

 

_“-And I think Mama still doesn't know it had been us taking the apples that day.”_ She laughed. He had laughed too. Her laugh, her smile, that row of white teeth. A contrast to her dark eyes.

 

He opened his own eyes and blinked. Commanding himself to focus on the task at hand.

 

If “Liberty or Death” had been the old password. Then the new one must obviously be another recycled phrase that they had all heard. 

 

_ “If you can't find the answer in the Book Of Exodus, then look in Israel.”* Miss Schuyler had said. “That is one of Papa’s favorite things to say, but I've yet to find a soul who knows what it means.” She said, “I have quite a feeling, Papa himself doesn't know what it means.” _

 

“Colonel.” Ford said firmly, enough that he sounded several years older. It knocked Hamilton from his thoughts. “I beg of you, the password is-”

 

“The password,” Hamilton said, looking at the Sentinel, “If you can't find the answer in the Book Of Exodus, then look in Israel!”

 

The man's face did not change as he said plainly, “No.” His eyes met Ford's and seemed to say the same thing, as a frustrated sound echoed from the tired soldier.

 

“I suggest you listen to the boy.” He said, “Before you freeze off the parts that Miss Schuyler will be most sorely sad to find missing.”

 

His head slowly rose to look at the Sentinel, who showed no remorse or thought that he may have misspoke.

 

Hamilton looked at Ford, then with a slow, defeated sigh, motioned for the boy to come to him.

 

Ford cupped a hand and whispered the blasted words into his ear. 

 

Oh. Yes, that had been it hadn't it...

 

“Thank you, Ford.” He said, feeling a slow rise of heat fill his face.

 

“Of course Sir.” Ford said, nodding, and feeling quite sorry for the soldier-lover. Though he decided, as he watched Colonel Hamilton trudge up to the Sentinel, that he couldn't fault him for being too full of sweet things to remember it.

 

A lady like Miss Schuyler would muddle and and make any man dizzy, he was sure.

 

“Many Mickles make a Muckle.”* Hamilton said, and the Sentinel moved aside. He looked back at Ford one last time, a nod of thanks and then went in.

 

He was already imagining what he could tell Betsey the next day. How it seemed that she had worked some spell over him that caused his memory to disappear.

 

_‘You see Miss Schuyler that simply won't do.’_ He'd tell her, _‘How am I to aide His Excellency in this war if you seem bent on clouding the most treasured parts if my brain? How am I to work with such a Charmer in close proximity?”_

 

He chuckled silently. What would she say to that? _‘Well Colonel Hamilton I am at a lost on how to remedy this. Perhaps it may call for you to visit less.’_

 

_ ‘No no, that wouldn't do either. For then I'd be cursed to think of you even more.’ _

 

_ ‘Then what do you think is best?’ _

 

_‘Well, Miss Schuyler,’_ He'd say. And, what then?

 

He could only see now, as the thought of the conversation, those dark eyes. Like pieces of the night sky, carved from the Gods just for her. He could look into them as long as he could look into the night sky.

 

He could imagine laying next to her, somewhere perhaps in Albany. A grassy meadow somewhere, the wind gently brushing the grass. He could see her eyes then, in the bright sun. Lighted up with spirit and life. With enough gentleness, he could see several little lambs among them in the meadow as well. 

 

She look at him, her attention full, and devoted, as though she fancied him someone of importance. More than just an orphan from the West Indies. Looking at him with love. And he’d reach for her hand.

 

And deliver kiss, gentle on her perfectly smooth knuckles.

 

Much like he had given her earlier in the evening. And that playful girl, had then taken his hand, and given him a kiss back. 

 

He could still hear the laughter from her Aunt and Sister, at what he was sure most amusing expression on his face.

 

_“It seems I've embarrassed you, Colonel Hamilton.”_ Betsey had teased. He couldn't remember his answer, if he had given one.

 

Partly he could not remember because he suddenly found himself hitting the wall next to the door that led to the sleeping quarters for the other Aides.

 

And then was aware of the laughter in the aforementioned room, which he didn't mind as much as he may have a few weeks ago.

 

“Another evening spent in agreeable company I can see.” Mac said amused, as he went past. Narrowly missing a close encounter of his knee with the corner of the table.

 

“I propose,” He heard someone, he was still so deep in thought he couldn't say who at the moment, say, “We make it so that Hammy has an escort home from Miss Schuyler, to see that he makes it to bed in one piece.”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
